


Initiative: Fox

by Kittycatxxx



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky remembers, Civil War, F/M, Hydra (Marvel), Loss of Trust, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Red Room, SHIELD, Slow Build, Steve is Hydra, Violence, civil war spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-05-31 19:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6485545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittycatxxx/pseuds/Kittycatxxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky wasn't the only super soldier Hydra created, only she comes on very different terms and didn't turn out how they expected her to. Loyal to hydra, she is ordered to kill Natasha. But things take a turn for the worse, and she ends up captured. Can she make it out? Or does she choose to stay?<br/>*Rewriting the beginning so bare with me!*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I have some russian in this chapter so I'll say  
> 'Ty' Means you in russian, the rest I'll translate at the end of the chapter. Please let me know what you think! Should I continue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rewrote the beginning of the story, as I wasn't happy with it, it goes further back to the origins

‘Sir, ... capsule ... active...’, a weirdly accented voice rings through to my ears. I say rings, it truly does ring, you know that high pitched bell you have in your ears after you faint or when you experience low blood pressure? Yeah, the voice caused that. Stupid person, talking. Slowly I regain sensation on my skin, the pleasant numbness replaced by a biting cold, which spreads from my chest outwards. I try to move my fingers when it reaches them, the motion causing another sensation to spread from my extremities inwards, the sensation of pain. My veins ignite with each heartbeat, ice scratching the walls of my blood vessels. Trust me, it’s everything but enjoyable.

At this stage it’s exhilarating for me, it means I can come out and I can play. Who doesn’t want to play? ‘Prepare for medical procedure’, another voice replies as the cold becomes reasonably bearable. Now my entire body is shaking, finally the nerves woke up from their slumber and began firing the correct readings to my brain, its cold, begin warming. I feel all my muscles contracting and relaxing at a fast pace, sending my body into near convulsing shocks, limited by the sharp stinging of my restraints. As my body stops convulsing, the lid of the capsule gets lifted and a waft of warm, moist air hits my face. Now I open my eyes, knowing that all my other senses are on full function, knowing I won’t panic if I find them wrong.

‘Good morning Fox’ I hear my handler from above. I simply groan in response. Don’t talk, unless you speak Russian, don’t say a word and they won’t hurt you. If there is one thing I trust this green eyed man with its how to behave. Because if I don’t, the consequences are dire, trust me, I know them all too well. I look up at him, his face significantly older than last time, as with every time I wake up. He ages, I don’t. Beer bottle green is what his eyes are described as on his file, but I believe them to be a brighter, almost grass green if he wasn’t so lean.

‘Morning’, I reply in Russian, the word scratching my throat uncomfortably. ‘Water’ my request is gratified near instantly, a glass of clear liquid placed into my outstretched hand by a white lab coat. Of course there’s someone underneath that coat, but frankly, I don’t care who or what they are. It’s not my problem, it’s not my concern, it’s not my mission. ‘Mission report, December 17th 1991’ the brown haired man requests from the balcony.

‘Success’ is all I reply, I’ve already reported this mission and it was in my files, why recite the events again?

‘I do not care if you succeeded, I want the report. Now’ his grass eyes lit up with anger.

‘Mission 17th December 1991, reporting events.’

-

Rain. Thats the first thing I notice as I’m kicked out of the army car. The gentle pattering streaking down my hair and subsequently my face, my eyes adjusting to the dark outside faster than I expected. I’m still not used to being an ‘enhanced’, I’ve only really been out for a few days since the fateful experiment. The man behind the wheel turned on the headlights again and asked if I understood my mission, I nod slightly and turn around, hearing the comfortable rumble of warmth leave to my left. A path was stomped out ahead of me, the gravel road surrounded by woods and bush. They had cleared the car already, it had barely been a few hours prior that it had crashed here. Seems like they got better at handling accidents, or maybe it was because of the people inside the car that everything was done more promptly. I contemplate my plan of action before I set out to find my target. Hearing some branches cracking to my left I do not turn my head, I simply focus on the sound. It’s too loud and clumsy to be my target, so I ignore it and walk ahead. The wet ground squelches under my boots, something possibly inaudible to the human ear but god it’s irritating me. Squelch, Squelch. It sounds both disgusting and arousing. It’s been a while since I could hear my feet on the ground. The path becomes thinner and thinner as I proceed, grass covering the sandy and noisy surface. Though the grass is causing a slight crackle, this sound is much less annoying. I stop and check my surroundings when I get to a rock, placing my back pack onto the flat surface and looking through it. Torchlight, useless. Rope, meh, could come in handy. Tazer, yeah, keep that. A second set of uniform? How long do they think I’ll be out here for? A blanket for the cold nights, yeah I’ll sure as hell keep that! Screw the cold. After closing the backpack back up and burring the torch under some dead shrub I swing it back on and continue walking. If I was in the targets shoes, where would I go? Some abandoned place, maybe a holiday home, or a cave, anything dark and somewhat secure. Nothing big, harder to secure, but nothing tiny either, you need space to run and potentially fight. My eyes wander on the horizon, conveniently blocked by a mass of trees, but I spot a small light far left, light bulb for sure, it’s a yellow tint and doesn’t flicker. I know the target isn’t dumb enough to light a fire, at least I hope they aren’t. Well, I say ‘they’, I wasn’t told the gender, only that they are an asset to hydra and need to be captured and returned as quickly as possible. Great, a rescue mission basically. How I love those.

Trees pass by on my sides as I make my way to the house. The light becomes brighter and brighter, however the rain became heavier again so I had to seek shelter under a large birch. They smell amazing when wet, in my opinion anyhow. I can hear the scurrying of animals trying to outrun the rain, some succeed, some fail, as is the norm in nature. As I wait I can hear footsteps not too far away, maybe 30 meters, something like that. This new hearing has thrown my distances off pretty bad. Now my choices are follow the footsteps or go to the light. Are they the targets footsteps? Or just a random passer-by. A passer-by at this hour of night (or morning, whichever way you swing) is pretty suspicious alright. So I let my step fall in to the same rhythm as the person in front of me and make my way over. The rhythm has me puzzled though, it’s as if they are carrying something heavy, maybe a body? Maybe it’s just a wood chopper? (Again, at 3am?)

Well whatever they are, they’re heavy, but their footsteps are very light. Trained maybe. Just as I was close enough to make visual contact with the person, a twig snapped below my shoe. Fucking great. The walking stopped abruptly and I attempted to hide behind a thick tree, knowing that whoever they are, they’re definitely on alert now. Stealth was never really my forte. The person starts walking again, quietly, I can barely make out their steps, but still I hear the gentle thud’s approach my tree. Shit. My right hand is at the ready at my waist strap, the metal handle of my blade a soothing presence as my breath quickens. Whether its fear or excitement, I honestly can’t tell you. A bit of both maybe? It’d have to be. I can feel his presence behind me. My senses overridden by the massive human being behind me, back to the tree, leather clad. He towers over me, and I have to crane my neck to see the back of his head. Seemingly black hair covers his neck, his right hand grasping a knife eerily similar to my own.

_He’s hydra._

Oh shit.

Too quickly it dawns on me just who I was sent to retrieve. Well this just went from fun to fucking amazing! I’ve always wanted to fight the well known ‘asset’ of hydra, the winter soldier, the poor American bastard. ‘You’re with them aren’t you’ I hear his gruff voice behind me, the poor ol’ tree a barrier to us both.

‘Yes’ I hear him shift, his muscles taut, he’s running on fight or flight. Either way he will lose.

‘Run away, you know who they really are’ Yes, I do know, they are my creators, my handlers, my family, my friends, and my killers.

‘No can do Soldier’ His deep breath hitches, his entire body stills. Must have hit a nerve.

‘Why?’ he asks carefully, my knife is still in my hand, a second one slipped into my left hand, a smaller make, useful for throwing.

‘I have nowhere left to go’ I hiss as I spin around the tree, left hand raised to force a block. A loud clang resonates through the forest, as soon as it does I strike with my right arm, aiming for just above the stomach. Another clang, sparks fly, my mouth hangs open in a gasp as I realized just what happened. Composure. I jump back again, the soldier hot on my heels now, his eyes burning into mine as he attempts to predict my next move. I toss the small knife at him, to no avail as he simply blocks it with his left arm, another clang. Wait, a clang? What the he...? My thought is cut short when he launches himself at me, desperation in his eyes now, he just wants to get away. Something in him changes, his eyes become distant, he falters. This is my chance, I slip between his legs, low on my own, no rapid movements while he’s in the trance.

Blade at his neck, my other arm folding his left one behind his back, he finally snaps back when I press the knife into his throat a little. Well this was easy. He doesn’t struggle against me as I lead him towards the house, obedient like a little child. Interesting. I don’t think much of it as I push him to sit on the ground, holding both his hands behind his back with my right hand as I reach behind me for the cuffs. Seems like he had other plans, he yanks his metal hand from my grasp and swiftly turns, the hand flying to my throat, pinning my back against the wall painfully. That’s gonna leave a bruise.

‘Ow’ I yelp as his grasp tightens, his eyes hollow with murderous intent, however no matter how much he squeezes I don’t wheeze, I don’t choke. His hand is struggling to press further, something is blocking his mechanism, the arm now shaking from overexertion.

‘What are you?’ he whispers, eyes wide as he puts more power into the arm. A click makes him look away, the door of the house opening and my handler walking in, green eyes flashing amused at what he walked in on. Had there been less clothes involved it might have been a slightly compromising position, considering I wrapped my legs around the soldiers waist while he was distracted.

‘I see you have met your partner, Asset, Fox, and I believe further introductions are needless’ his American accent bounced around the house, the yellow light making his eyes positively venomous green. ‘Partner?’ both of us gasp, different tones of excitement in our voices. I was positively shaking with excitement, partnered with the already famous Winter Soldier? How awesome is that!? He didn’t sound nearly as excited, it was almost like it was a negative thing to have me as his partner. Idiot.

‘Yes, and if the asset would be so kind as to release our little fox here I would be grateful’, my handler almost growled at the dark haired assassin.

I am partnered with an assassin.

I am partnered with _the_ assassin.

That’s almost as awesome as being trained in the Red Room. Yep, I loved that training session, 1 year worth of Red Room changes anyone from a soldier to an infiltrator. Especially when paired with the best of the best. God she taught me so much.

I wonder how she is now.


	2. Red dress

**Can anyone guess who her handler is? Also sorry for the short chapter but thats' the only way I could make it tie in with the next chapters smoothly so I'll continue on from the last chapter! :)**

 

‘Is that the complete report?’ my handler asked me, his eyes burning into my own as he sat across from me on a flimsy wooden chair.

‘Yes sir’ I nod my head slightly, as far as I remember that was all that occurred during that day, the Asset was returned, after some amount of uhm... Persuasion... with guns and stuff... and then wiped. After that we started partnering, though that wasn’t without its own problems and tribulations.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked again as he opened the file on his lap.

‘Yes sir’ He read a line, looked up at me, back down again and nodded his head slightly, a smirk forming on his square face.

‘Good. Are you ready for your next mission?’ He looked up at me again, the smile still on his face. I nod.

‘Yes sir’

‘Good. Your next mission is her’ He turns the file on his lap around so I can look at it, and hands it over. ‘Target name: Natalia Romanova, A.K.A the black widow, ex KGB and ex Hydra, highly dangerous, weapons ex-’

‘Expert, hand to hand combat expert, top infiltrator in the world, I know, she trained me’ I break into his sentence, and immediately regret it as his fist comes flying, connecting with my jaw and snapping my head to the side. For an old man he sure had some power in him.

‘Interrupt me again and I won’t be so nice’ he snarled, his hands on my shoulders as he leaned in too close for comfort over me, his breath mingling with my own, attacking my sensitive nostrils with a scent that is just so _him_. And I hate it. I want to throw the old bastard off, want to snap his neck for disrespecting me so openly. But I am merely his toy, I have no right to touch him, much less harm him. That’s what I promised so many years ago. That I will obey so long as they don’t harm him. I let my gaze fall to the left, another chamber there, his eyes are closed but his brown hair still as long and unruly as ever. He was alive, the machine confirming so with every beep it emitted. I had to obey as long as he’s alive. It’s one of the very few reasons I let this old man hit me, order me around, control me like a dog on a leash. But that’s what I am. A dog.

‘Yes sir’ I say, my eyes flicking back to his green. I notice the characteristic outline of a contact lens, but who am I to question it? No one.

‘Eliminate target, you will be dropped off at Stark Tower.’

‘Howard Stark is still alive?’ It can’t be, the Asset was sent to kill him. The Asset never fails.

‘His son, Anthony Stark, will be hosting a party in 5 hours, departure in 30 minutes. Get ready’ he ordered as he started to leave. Another lab coat came from either side to untie my restraints and lead me to the changing rooms. An upgraded suit was already prepared, along with a deep red evening dress and heels I couldn’t imagine walking in. But it was my mission, so I placed the dreaded _obcas_ onto my feet and risked a few steps, finding that my balance wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected it to be. My suit was a simple thing, a sleeveless, low neckline black cat suit from a material I couldn’t name if I wanted to. It fit snugly, however after I performed some stretches to relax my still frozen muscles I found it acted and felt like a second skin. Now that’s a suit I like. The dress given was a simple red thing with long sleeves, hugging my curves nicely in my opinion. A simple comb was handed to me, the insinuation clear, do up your hair. I don’t know what the current fashion is, I don’t even know what year it is, so I opt for a timeless look of the half up do. Part of my hair is pulled into a messy bun using bobby pins and the rest is left to fall loosely around my face. For make-up I decide on a simple 1940’s look, red lipstick and black eyeliner, some blush to highlight my cheeks. Nothing heavy, I hate heavy make-up, just enough to enhance my assets. Lastly I grab the knives laid out on the table, dual bladed expanding knives go into my bra, one throwing knife is strapped onto my wrist, one onto my thigh, and a modified Sai is strapped onto my back. Talk about having to keep a straight back all night.

I check myself once more in the floor length mirror, click my tongue and snap my fingers at myself, it’s stupid little gesture to make myself feel better.

 _It’s not stupid_. I hear my voice in my head.

Yeah it is.

_No its not, it’s a common way to heighten ones’ self esteem._

As if my self esteem needs heightening. Anyways, satisfied with my looks and the concealment of my beloved knives I walk out of the room and two lab coats escort me to the exit, an aircraft already waiting for me with my handler standing in the doorway, arms crossed, legs shoulder width apart. He looks like a soldier. He was a soldier, as far as his file was correct. In this light he looked as if he hadn’t aged at all, as if he was still just a tad older than me. It must be my imagination playing tricks on me. As I stand in front of him he nods appreciatively at my choice of make-up and hairdo, and moves one leg to step to the side. For an old man he sure is muscular, his muscles lean and covered by the jacket that was too large, but his arms were defined even under the baggy material. Must be his ex-military training, most soldiers keep in form even after they resign.

We sat across from each other in silence as the airplane lifted off. As always I had grabbed a window seat, and was now watching as the characteristic spikes of the Moscow Cathedral Mosque were vanishing below the wing. 

'Are you sure you're ready for this?' he asked, almost concern in his voice, but not quite the real deal.

'Yes sir' 

'When we land I want you to head straight for the bar, there will be a man that will flirt with you, flirt back. Once you see the target, isolate her, strike.'

'Yes sir'

'I will not be there for the beginning of the party, I will have to change into something more formal. Remember your training, remember your target.'

'Yes sir' After those words were spoken a comfortable silence enveloped the airplane, apart from the whirring of the engines and the occasional change in wind shaking the plane up a little. I must have dozed off during the flight as the next thing I know we are loosing altitude, my ears popping uncomfortably from the change in pressure. I hate flying, simply for that reason. We land not far from the iconic tower, the Stark name placed on the roof proudly. A black car is waiting for us, and we enter it swiftly. As the roll to a stop at a red carpet I hear my handler slip away from beside me, covered by the car he makes his way around the building. Let the fun begin.


	3. Careful, I bite

~Her brown hair was done up in a nice up-do, red lipstick and simple makeup highlighting her already pretty features, and a deep red gown flowed from her shoulders to the floor, covering a set of black lace heels which her feet rested in. ~

Dirty blue eyes scanning for my next target. I was never sure how they managed to get me into parties like this one, hosted by no other than the son of the man who played a big role in creating me. Stark was throwing another extravagant party, for no reason what so ever, as usual. Or so I was told. I scanned the people attending again, immediately spotting the one I was meant to avoid at all cost, the American super soldier. ‘Amerykaniec’, that’s what I was told to call him. Seconds later my target paraded into the saloon, the Russian red headed woman, ‘Rosianka’. Rosianka sat across from the doctor, clearly having some sort of enjoyable conversation with him. 

‘May I get the pretty girl a drink?’ I heard a smug voice beside me. I smiled kindly, like I was taught to, and nodded once.

‘A martini please, make it dirty’ I said in a sensual voice. The mans pupils immediately blew wide and he nodded quickly turning to the bar tender purchasing the requested drink. All the while I had my eye set on the red head, who was now making her way to the balcony. Maybe not the best situation, but it would be a lot less messy than doing it in here. Excusing myself from the man, now returning with two drinks in hand, I made my way to follow Rosianka, a knife silently slipping into my hand from its halter in my sleeve. As I came closer to the red head I smelled a whiff of her sickly sweet perfume, how ironic that choice was considering just who the woman in front of me truly is. A cold blooded assassin, with not a single truthful bone in her body. She deserved to die. 

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ I asked, the red head quickly flinching and turning. She hadn’t noticed me approach. 

‘yes, it is’ she smiled, her pink lips tight and green eyes suspicious, not without reason. As the knife got purchase in her stomach the smile rapidly faded into a strangled cry for help, flailing as she fell to the ground. 

‘You’re letting your guard down, Widow’ I smirked standing over her. However my own smirk turned into something a lot more confused when her face broke out in a bright smile. What the fuck did she have to smile about? One more twist and she’s dead, her stomach acid will burn her inside out. I brace my arm for the twist, kneeling on one leg for leverage. One last glance at her bloodied face and I twist, but I don’t get very far as I feel heavy impact at the back of my head. And then its all black. Well, for a while anyways. The deafening ring in my ears subsides to the laughter of my mom. Oh mom. 

She used to be my anchor, my best friend and my only friend really. We talked about things that were taboo at the time, like sex or the war. Oh what a time, when I smiled and I had her. She was my everything, my love for her unfaltering and unlimited. I know it’s a little weird, but she was literally all I had, my father had left when I was too young to remember, and boys? Screw boys. There she was, standing in front of me in the middle of ruined little Bydgoszcz, bombed and in pieces, but she found a patch of green and she tended to it, it was her small project. Rebirth, she called it, creating life out of chaos. I used to laugh at her, why bother? It’s just going to get destroyed in the next blitz. But she’d frown at me with that motherly disappointment that was reserved for the ‘You’ll understand when you’re older’ speech. She was smiling at me, that bright little smile that came so naturally to her, she spoke but I couldn’t hear her. Why can’t I hear her? I try walk closer but no matter how many steps I take towards her it seems that I’m still in the same spot. Why? A white light is taking her away from me, no, wait! Mom wait! Please! 

‘Niet, podozhdite! Pozhaluysta!’* I wake up to my own screams. The first thing I notice is the incredible pain in my neck, so I rock my head forward, promptly gagging on my own vomit. How lady like. Ok, no more moving my head. As I swallow down whatever my stomach wanted to get rid of the recent events unfold in my minds eye. The widow laying bloodied in front of me, the smile on her face, the impact, the lights out. My head is throbbing now, but at least the nauseousness was leaving. Just as I wanted to take a look around the room, well aware that my hands and feet were tied to this devilish chair, the door swung open, the swish making me even more aware of my head. 

‘You’re awake’ It wasn’t a question, they knew very well I was awake now, so there wasn’t much point in hiding. Lifting my head to return the ice cold glare I was getting from Amerykaniec was hard, but oh so rewarding when I saw his cheeks promptly flush a satisfying pink. 

‘Da’ Keep to single word responses, that’s what I was taught by my handler. Single word answers in Russian, it was close enough to my own language that I understood it but I knew maybe 3 words in it. 

‘Why did you attack Na – Black widow’ wow he was bad at interrogating. Already giving away her real name. Natalia Romanov, but I knew that already. 

‘Da’ 

‘Are you Russian?’

‘Niet’ 

‘Right...’ he sighed in exasperation. He left the very slim file on the table and left the room, the door swishing again, making my head spin. At least the pain was subsiding, there was that. The room was bland, simple gray tones and metal chairs and table, a double sided mirror right in front of me. Smile for the camera! And so I did, though I have a feeling it was more of a smirk. If only they knew they were about to lose me. Completely. 

After another agonizingly boring 5 minutes another man entered the room. I anticipated him with a tilt of my head, curious who they’d send next. Only this one I didn’t expect. He stared right through me with those ice blue eyes, partially covered by his long brown hair. 

‘Who are you?’ he spoke in Russian, perfect Russian. 

‘Soldier’ I nodded towards him, feeling him still for a second. You may not know who I am, but I know who you are. 

‘Yes. Who are you’ he repeated, turning the chair around so the back faced me and straddling it like an unwilling woman. 

‘Soldier’ I repeated. 

‘Are you hydra?’ his blue eyes still stared into what seemed to be my soul. 

‘Niet. Ty’* Again he flinched. Yeah, I know you’re hydra, winter soldier. I was meant to be your partner, but you just had to run away. And then I got the brunt of Hydras anger thrown onto me, in many different ways, one more imaginative than the next. 

‘Not anymore. Who are you?’

‘Soldier’ 

‘No, you are not a soldier, who the fuck are you?’ he threw his fist and I was sure he would hit me, bracing for the impact but not flinching. My eyes followed the fist until it crashed unceremoniously onto the metal table. I looked back up at him, a smirk on my face. He’s weak. They made the winter soldier weak.

‘Ty. Weak’, again the soldier stilled, my words clearly hitting a weak spot.

‘No. I’m stronger than you will ever be.’

‘Niet’

‘No? Why not?’

‘Niet’

‘You’re hydra.’ This time it wasn’t a question, his eyes slowly lighting up with realisation as he starts to recognize me. About time, soldier. I don’t even attempt to speak, I just nod, a knowing smirk on my face as I start to turn the pill in my mouth. Soon they’ll know just how efficient cyanide is. 

‘Are you here to take me back?’ If that was my mission I wouldn’t have wasted my time with that woman. Is that how you remember me? A time waster?

‘Niet’ 

~Only use the pill if you are compromised and won’t make it out. It’s a permanent solution, we can’t afford to lose you too, Fox. Before you use it, ask yourself, can you potentially make it out alive? If the answer is yes, hold off using it. Attempt escape, if you fail, bite.~ I heard my handlers voice from the briefing. One thing I don’t understand is why they wanted me to attack the widow in a room full of her friends. Sure, it’s not the first time I made a flashy assassination; Hydra seems to like them, but in a room full of super humans and the Iron Man, in his very own home? Why do that? Was it a test, to see how much I’ve improved? But after so many years of loyalty, why would they still want me to prove something? Have I not proven enough? Then it hit me like a bag of bricks. They wanted me to fail. They wanted to get captured. Why though? What was their motive? Did they want to get rid of me? Is that it? Well watch me get rid of myself then.

-  
Bydgoszcz - a town in Poland, occupied by germany during WW2  
Niet, podozhdite! Pozhaluysta! - No, wait! Please!


	4. Are you Fox?

‘Hail Hydra’ I murmur under my breath, and open my jaw slightly to get enough force to crack the shell, but before I’m able to finish my movement a solid cold palm holds my jaw in a bone breaking hold. I swallow deeply and look up again, only to see the soldier staring directly in my eyes, inches away. His eyes are filled with anger and sorrow, why sorrow? I was about to rid you of the only reason you’re so afraid and you dare look at me with sorrow? 

‘Tony!’ the soldier shouted towards the door, eyes never leaving mine and grip unfaltering despite my best efforts. Seconds later the door burst open and a much more casually dressed Tony Stark walks into the room, about to make some snarky remark I’m sure, but that gets cut off by the soldiers voice.

‘I pry her mouth open you remove the pill.’ 

‘Sure thing Robocop, sure you don’t want to replace that pill with something else?’ Blue eyes roll and Tony kneels in front of me, one hand on my thigh and one at my mouth. The soldier attempts to force my mouth open, but I use all my energy to counter his assault, to some extend successfully. However the longer I force my cheek muscles to contract this unusually, they start burning and burning, and soon that burning turns into an inferno. Tears roll down my cheeks as I slowly come to the realisation that I’m fighting a lost battle. I have failed you, Hydra. I have failed in my mission, I have failed in my removal, I have failed. Defeated I let my mouth hang loose, Tony swiftly recovering the pill and placing it in a little plastic bag.

‘Why?’ the soldier asks me again and again, but I’m too defeated to react. I have lost. First I lost my family, then I lost my country, now I lost my second family. By now I know that even if I get out of here, Hydra will hunt me down and kill me. Is there even a point in fighting? 

‘Winter soldier.’ I hear my voice say, yes, that’s a plan alright. ‘You are merely a dog. One day hydra will find you, and they will do the same things to you they always did. And I will stand there and watch, an amused smile on my face as I always have when they make you suffer. They will take everything from you one by one, and you won’t be able to defend them. You never were able to defend them, Soldier. Because now you have grown weak. Just like Widow.’ I want to anger him, make him lose control like I know he does when he isn’t in cyro for a while. Based on his stiff stature and his shivering hands I take it as a success, so I lean forward as much as my restrains allow me, let a knowing smirk play on my face. Make them think you know more than they do. ‘I will hunt them all down, Soldier. One by one. Who should I start with? Mr. Blond and buff maybe? No, I’ll leave him for last, see him squirm under me before I cut his throat open and lavish in the sound of his gurgled groans as he succumbs to drowning in his own blood. Nothing quite like dyeing with a pretty woman on top of you, is there?’ I barely manage to finish my sentence as my head gets propelled to the left, my cheek burning up again, the muscles underneath already tired from the previous excursion. I let my head loll there as I attempt to regain some vision through rapid blinking, while hear the soldiers breathing through one ear, shallow and quick, intermittent with some deep inhales as he attempts to calm himself. I expected the slap to be stronger. He truly has grown weak.

I turn my head back to him, smirk still in place as I feel a light thick drop roll down my chin. ‘Weak’ I say.   
I hear the door open again and blondy walks in, places a hand on the soldiers shoulder and whispers something to him. Normally I would be able to hear them, but my right ear was ringing an unbearably high pitch in my ear and I couldn’t concentrate. The soldiers eyes drifted to me once more, then he nodded and stepped out, leaving only Amerykaniec and myself in the room. He placed a significantly thicker file on the table. I tilt my head, attempting to look curious.

‘I only now realised I never quite introduced myself, I’m Steve Rogers. You probably know me as Captain America, but I have a real name, I am Steve Rogers.’

‘Amerykaniec’ I’m honestly unsure what he is attempting to play at, trying to make me feel more comfortable by   
making me think he’s human? Is that it?

‘Is that what they taught you?’ He shook his head. ‘Call me Steve please.’ I nod, no point in attempting to argue with this man. ‘You have a real name too, do you want to tell me?’

‘Niet’, and again the Captain sighs.

‘When were you born?’ 

‘Niet’ 

‘Where are you from?’

‘Niet’

Do those people not learn? I won’t give them any answers. If I die keeping my secret, I’m ok with that. They have the winter soldier. He trusts them. I do not. The only person I trust is my handler, and he is nowhere to be seen, he sent me on this mission to fail. So do I truly trust this man? I’m not sure. Do I have a choice? No. 

‘Guess I’ll have to resort to this then...’ he sighs again, opening the file. A picture flies out, and I recognise it as soon as my eyes fall on the smiling brunettes features, even if the picture is a black and white representation of a bright eyed teenage girl. It was the picture my mother took by the patch of green, before I got myself into this mess. Back when times were so much simpler. Blondy notices my eyes lingering on the picture and goes to reach for it, immediately my eyes snap to his. Shit. I fully expect him to take the picture away, hide it back into the file. But he just puts two fingers on the edge, careful not to touch the glossy surface, and turns it around so it’s fully turned towards me. ‘Recognise her?’ I’m trying really hard not to make some snarky remark. No, idiot, I don’t bloody recognise myself from a picture that my own freaking mother took of me in a patch of green that represented her hopes and prayers for a peaceful future. 

‘Da’ 

‘I’ll ask you again, what’s your name? If you answer me truthfully this will go a lot easier, believe me.’ He smiles at me with that bright American smile that I saw on propaganda posters when I grew up. The same bright smile I was conditioned to remove off his stupid American face. But even despite all my hatred towards the man in front of me, I know that maybe if I cooperate they’ll be easier to me, maybe even let me out one day. If I play my part right I might even shorten the amount of time I have to look at that stupid face. Now that’s a thought. 

‘Fox’ It’s not untruthful, that is my name in Hydra. I haven’t heard my real name since my mother called out to me, to stop me from going. Of course I hadn’t listened, what 17 year old ever listens to their mother? Especially when given the opportunity to serve the motherland, to honour my country. 

‘No, that’s not your real name. Do you remember it?’ Yes, I remember my name. But it hasn’t been my name since decades. 

‘Fox’ I repeat. ‘Just call me Fox.’ I’m well aware that my Slavic accent is heavy, I haven’t spoken English in a very long time, having mainly operated in eastern Europe and Germany. 

‘But do you remember your real name?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘Ok’ he looks at my file again, reading on, his eyes widening at one part in particular and I can’t help but wonder what he read. Maybe my kill count. ‘You were here during the world war?’ What kind of question is that? 

‘No’ He narrows his eyes at me, he thinks I’m lyng. 

‘Says here you were’ 

‘Then it’s wrong.’

‘Initiative:Fox was signed off by Agent Carter, after Project:Rebirth was successful. You were here, to have it signed off.’

‘No, I was at a Nazi training camp about to be recruited for a secret initiative Captain. Your files are wrong.’ Lesson number one, never tell the interrogator the full truth, but lace the lie with just enough truth to make it appear truthful. I was in a Nazi camp, but not for training. 

‘So who was the candidate?’

‘Do you think they’d tell me? All I know is she’s dead. Initiative:Fox was a failure for Shield’

‘How are you here then? You are Initiative:Fox’ 

‘No’ 

‘No? Says so right here.’ He kept his eyes narrowed the entire conversation, mistrusting whatever I was telling him. Though this time I’m not lying. I’m not Initiative:Fox, that was Shields idea, and Erskine created the formula. A special concoction to create a female super soldier. The serums were meant for Hydra, whom Dr. Erskine was working for at the time, ordered to test the formulas on American soldiers rather than hydra’s able bodies. However Erskines loyalties became apparent when Rebirth was a success. He destroyed all formulas and the extra serum in an effort to keep it away from Hydra, but failed to remember the female formula. Needless to say it ended up in Hydras hands, however, it was incomplete. 

‘As I said, those files are wrong. I am not Initiative:Fox. If I was, I wouldn’t be here.’

‘Where would you be?’

‘Dead’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the cliff hanger but I just love them so much! I'll try update weekly, still amn't sure who I want Fox to be paired with, if anyone at all. Maybe I'll just keep her a lonely wolf type, or a here-again-there-again type of character. Anyways, any suggestions are always welcome! See you next week for more!


	5. We need Nat.

‘She isn’t talking anymore, and whatever evidence we have she calls dumb. God we need Nat here, she’d know how to get through to her’ Steve rubbed his face, a heavy eight o’clock shadow adorning his typically clean features as his gaze fell onto the brunette behind the mirror. They had loosened her restraints a bit, even let her have some food as she was locked up for 2 days now. After the initial success of the interrogation using her personal information she just shut down completely. 

‘I’ve done some research into Foxy here and what she said isn’t false.’ Tony piped up from the other end of the table. ‘The Initiative: Fox formula, according to Erskine's notes, would result in this genotype. So, Bruce managed to recover some samples from the capsule, though it wasn’t much I managed to get a strand and look, there's discrepancies, multiple nonsynonymous substitutions, protein structure's completely different.’ Tony excitedly waving his hands at the hovering images of the double helixes as he attempts to explain. 

‘Bruce, translate please’ Steve looked at the doctor clear annoyance visible on his face.

‘It means her DNA's 'cooking with gas'’, that’s what they used to call it right?’ Tony answers before Bruce has a chance to get a word in. Steve nods. ‘Good, that plain enough for you, gramps? Almost as much as yours, not as much brute force though, looks like Hydra were trying something new.’

‘If she isn’t Fox, who or what is she?’ Steve asked studying the strands closer. 

‘I know her’ came a gravelly voice from behind Steve, Bucky still looking at the glass.

‘Well I’d hope so, she was part of your little Girl Scout troop.’

‘Tony shut up’ 

‘Language, Steve!’ Tony piped up, smirking like the devil. Steve just shook his head and turned back to his best friend.

‘What do you remember?’ He put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder as he looked at his feet, brow furrowed trying to remember what he knew of the girl behind the glass. Steve can hear Tony give a deep, almost sexual groan from behind him, and turns to see the man in question still twirling the Helix, scanning it from top to bottom as if assessing a woman. He then leans into the doctor beside him and whispers ‘I think I just came a bit’. Bruce lets out a small whimper of surprise, quickly turning a deep red, while Steve merely groans in frustration, his cheeks however also turning a satisfying shade of pink, while Tony merely turns towards the two super soldiers and lets out a whole hearted laugh. Bucky however chose to ignore that little scene and concentrated on his AWOL memories. 

‘She’s strong. She withstood my slap with merely a cut on her lip. She was there when they froze me, always. They’d put her in after me, she would go willingly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her with a gun, but she always carries knives. She could keep up with me when we fought’ 

‘Unsurprising, she is still a super soldier, if a modified one.’ Tony was back to going over the test results, papers all over the place as always. 

-Fox pov- 

 

Somehow I have the feeling it’s been longer than a day. I can’t be entirely sure, I’ve been drifting in and out of restless naps constantly. When they removed the restraints on my hands I thought about fighting, thought about escaping, but when they placed a soup in front of me my stomach almost imploded, hunger suddenly surging through me like wildfire. It didn’t take much convincing to get me to eat, even if it was with a plastic spoon, the shitty cheap kind. Steve had brought it in, sat down across from me attempting to make conversation. He was talking about his past in Brooklyn, how he was small and weak back then, but always fighting other boys. He had something to prove, if only to himself. I listened while slurping the tomato soup, but made no attempt at returning the conversation. I’m happy just listening to him, I always was. He left as soon as I had finished my meal, leaving me to my own thoughts again. And from thoughts became dreams, one of the most memorable ones of the beginning of my allegiance to Hydra.  
As I was walking to school, or what was left of the building anyways, I saw once more the posters hung up on the walls. Make Germany great again, was the essential message. The building was dull and grey, but it was my school, so I loved it anyways. It was my piece of normalcy in a world of war and destruction, I would meet my friends there and learn new things. Though the latter wasn’t always that enjoyable. 

‘Ana! Ana!’ I heard an unmistakable male voice shout from over the hill, running at me with breakneck speeds, a little cloud forming behind him. 

‘Yeah! What is it?’ 

‘The army is here Ana! They’re recruiting!’ he jumped up and down excited, he’d always wanted to join the army, but I was worried about him. He had injured his leg when he was young, and now it was significantly shorter than the other, so he had a perpetual limp. Even while walking on a straight road he would sometimes trip and fall, and I wasn’t always there to pick him back up.

‘Are they now? Feliks you know you probably won’t make it in right?’ seeing his defeated expression I almost wanted to swallow my words and apologise, but I couldn’t. He had to be prepared for rejection; otherwise he would just fall apart.

‘I know, but I have to try!’ the dejected expression quickly changed to one of determined stubbornness, the kind that never ends well. 

‘Yes, you do, you never know till you try, isn’t that right?’ I stand on my tip toes to ruffle the boys black hair, his brown eyes disappearing behind long lashes as he contentedly closes his eyes. 

‘Exactly’ he murmurs out as I continue to pat his hair, it always was his weakness. Despite his one short leg he was easily one head taller than me, then again that wasn’t hard considering I’m a mere 5”4. 

‘Feliks, are you sure going to a Nazi recruitment is a good idea anyways? I mean, you’re as far removed from the ‘Aryan’ race as possible, dark hair, dark eyes, tan skin… Honestly I think you shouldn’t go’ removing my hand from his hair, I looked into his brown eyes attempting to look strict but it just went right over his head.

‘They want soldiers, they really don’t care! And I want to serve Ana, I want to fight!’ And thus an 18 year old boy turned into a 10 year old having a hissy fit, stomping his feet and huffing and puffing, murmuring something about how I dare say he shouldn’t join. 

‘Ok then, let’s go’ I sigh heavily, the pit of my stomach churning uncomfortably, a dark feeling raising from it.  
Somehow I hear knocking. Where was someone knocking? I turn my head to look at the surrounding area, Feliks looking at me with curiosity, but the knocking continues from an indiscernible direction. 

Knock, Knock. Pause. Knock, knock. 

‘Fox?’ Feliks asked me, eyes piercing mine, but they were no longer brown. An ice blue sheen covered the typical warm brown hue that I always cherished in my best friend. 

‘Wha…?’ Maybe this is just a bad dream, maybe this is just a corrupt memory. Please, don’t ruin my memories of my best friend. Not him too. Please. I shut my eyes, pinching them as tight as I could. Please let him be normal when I open them again. I beg you brain, please. 

‘Fox’, I hear a voice much lower pitched voice, gravelly and rough. So different from Feliks’ soft and warm tones. My eyes open again, only to be shut, as a bright light assaulted my optical nerves. I open my eyes again, significantly more careful now. ‘You’re awake. Good.’ Yeah no, I was enjoying my dream.

‘Yes’, this time our conversation is in English, clearly his most comfortable language. He sat across from me, the chair was the right way around this time. 

‘You know who I was don’t you’ He tilts his head to the right, his eyes a mixture of so many emotions looking in them makes me almost dizzy. Almost. 

‘Yes’ 

‘What was it like? In Hydra? For you, I mean’ he seemed so insecure, as if he didn’t remember much. I know he doesn’t, but why the interest now?

‘Nicer than for you, most of the time anyways.’ He looked up at that, and damn his eyes are so blue, how do I only notice it now? I guess I never got much of a chance to look into them between our fights and watching him get electrocuted into insanity. 

‘Most of the time? When wasn’t it?’ 

‘When the asset escaped I was all that was left. The agents were angry, and that always ends up on my shoulders. Or well, ribs, and arms, and legs, and head, and anywhere that they could strike or cause pain at. But pain wasn’t where it ended. Oh no.’ He let his head hang again, his dark hair covering his eyes. ‘Why are you so curious about this? It’s not like you ever cared what happened to me. Most of the time it was you causing all my pain.’ I let venom drip from my voice. Sure, he was meant to be my partner, but mainly I was his rag doll of a punching bag, a living, moving fricking punching bag. And that’s how he looked at me too, like a mere tool for his success. My formula was never meant to be as brutal as his, mine was meant for undercover work, to make it easier to infiltrate and eliminate. Sure I got the enhanced reflexes and some increased strength, but I am no match for the male super soldier. Especially not against his metal arm. 

‘Because I may not have cared back then, shit, I barely even remember anything. But I want you to know I’m sorry if I ever hurt you.’ He looked back up, such sincerity in his voice and face that I frankly almost wanted to hug him. The way his body was completely folded into itself, insecure and scared, reminded me so much of poor little Feliks. I may be a trained assassin, but I am in no way emotionless, no matter how much Hydra wanted to change that. 

‘If you ever hurt me? Soldier let me tell you, ‘if’ isn’t even a word that should exist in that sentence. I was there so you had someone to punch that would punch back. I was there so you had someone to work all your frustration out on that wouldn’t die after the first strike. I was there to help you train and keep your strength up between cyro. Tell me, what do you punch here? What do you fight? A bag? Or just thin air? I can see the pent up aggression in you, Soldier, and it won’t leave unless you fight someone, rather than something. Bags never were enough for you, even when you were just after surgery for that arm. You wanted to test it, despite doctors’ orders. That was the first time we fought.’

‘I’m sorry’ 

‘No. Do not apologise for your own needs, Soldier. Say, what do they call you here? James?’

‘Bucky’ 

‘Nice’

‘Yeah, I guess’ He let a small smile play on his lips, more of a one sided smirk, unused to the new way his mouth could potentially tilt into anything other than that constant scowl he’d wear at the base. Clad in civilian clothes he looked almost normal, except for the fact that he always covered his metal arm, typically using leather I noticed. ‘Why don’t you trust us?’ He tilted his head like a curious puppy, almost looking innocent, and I would have believed it any day if it wasn’t for the fact that I saw him murder several people with my very eyes, that I was on the receiving end of that killer punch, or that I was there to see him blank eyed taking orders in Russian from his handler. 

‘Why should I?’ 

‘We haven’t mistreated you’ 

‘No? I’ve been held in this very cell for what, 3 days? 4? The only contact I’ve had was with the very person I was told to from the age of 17 to kill on sight, having to listen to his sob stories of 1940’s Brooklyn, given one hardly nourishing meal, I’m not even given a chance to lay down. Nah, not mistreated at all.’ 

‘They accepted me, despite what I’ve done’

‘Are you trying to ask me to join shield?’

‘If we let you out you die to Hydra, you don’t really have a choice Doll’ 

‘I always have a choice’ 

‘Die or join us and have a chance at living, not really a choice sugar’ 

‘I’d rather die than join you.’ I spat in his face.

‘Have it your way then’ we entered a stare down state, only it wasn’t who blinks first, it was who softens first, breaks down first. Both of us stared into blue eyes, except he was blessed to look into my dirty blue ones, while I had to keep an unfaltering gaze into his ice cold ones. A chill ran down my spine, and honestly I almost gave in. What he said wasn’t dumb. My choice was extremely limited, either leave this cell and more than likely get hunted down by Hydra, and then death would be a release, or stay here and potentially live, but stay in a cell for the rest of my life. I know that maybe the latter was the better choice, I mean, I get to live. My thoughts return to the present as Bucky stands up and walks over behind me. Inside I know he wouldn’t hurt me, but I still prepared myself for the strike. They seem to treat him well enough, you know? But he was Captain Americas’ best friend, they knew him before. They know about as much about me as they have on file, and considering how much of that is flat down wrong, I doubt they even know my full name. I feel him play around with my restraints, and then a loud click echoes through the room. My hands fall to my sides, I’d almost forgotten that they are usable parts of my body. Then he kneels on my right, another click, and my leg swings forward. He walks over to my left and does the same. Did he really just release me? Why? ‘Enjoy dying.’ He remarks and walks out of the room, the door just slightly tilted open as I hear his receding steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had a very productive day today and wrote another chapter, yay I suppose? Anyways, i hope you enjoyed it! And please let me know what you think. BTW i loooooove writing Bucky and Tony!


	6. I am an expert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy the update :) I'll keep to a more regular schedule now haha!

‘Did that really just…’ I whisper, taking my wrists into my hands and massaging the angry red marks that were left from the cuffs. ‘Yup, that just happened…’ I test my legs, standing up while holding onto the table. They feel like Jell-O beneath me, but as I take a few supported steps I feel the circulation return, and with that so does my strength. More sure of myself, I wave into the double sided glass, maybe the idiots are still in there, and start making my way to the door. It opens noiselessly, only the quiet swish alarming anyone that it just opened, and take a careful look around. The soldier went to the right, and I sure as hell am not following him. I hold onto the door frame for a bit, and think about the current situation, creating a small list in my head. 

Ok, so in that order:

\- I infiltrated Stark tower  
\- I managed to isolate Widow and stab her  
\- I did not manage to kill her  
\- I got knocked out by Ameryk – Steve (I can tell that shield from a mile away)   
\- They interrogated me, using a good cop bad cop strategy   
\- They gave me food  
\- They loosened my restraints  
\- The Soldier attempts to recruit me  
\- Fails  
\- They let me go

Now, I’m no expert…

Oh wait.

I am. 

So, in my humble expert opinion: This bloody stinks. Potential scenarios already play out in my head, traps, tests, and the best of all: This is actually happening for real, all scurrying around my brain looking for my attention.   
Ok, plan of action. Do I have one? Nah, who has a plan of action? What is this? A movie? Some pre scripted bull or something? I walk down the left path, the corridor a bland grey colour, much like the room they kept me in. They really don’t like colour do they? Then again I’m used to the dirty walls of Hydra bases, often times unclean and speckled with red or other uh, bodily colours. Anyways, back to the tunnel, I hear my own heels click on the hard floors, way to be stealthy Fox, good job you, wear bloody heels more often girl. Attempting to be quieter I start stepping only on the balls of my feet. The corridor ends with another oh so colourfully grey door, which I duck down at and look through the lock. I’m not a peeping tom, I swear! Well, at least not usually. I can’t help it if well trained buff agents change into uniform right next to my gym… 

I can see nothing. Oh modern locks, so useless. Well, I’m gonna try my luck. The handle depresses alright, but when I go to push the door it doesn’t budge. I try again, using more force this time, but it just won’t move. There goes the ‘last door left’ cliché. That means I have to follow Bucky doesn’t it? But I don’t wanna! Just as I’m about to walk away from the door it swings open, towards me. 

‘You should try pulling sometimes’ I hear my dear friend Tony from the crack. 

‘Pull. Of course it’s the kind you pull. Stupid me’ Tony just smiles at my mumbling, but opens the door wider, showing me another grey room with everyone sitting at a conference type table, the nearest chair empty, probably waiting for me. ‘Is this an intervention? I swear I haven’t touched chocolate in months.’ I put my hands up in mock surrender. Sure, I know this is a shitty situation, and I’ll probably have to fight my way out or just not walk out at all, but a few jokes never killed anyone, right? The reaction was pretty much the same throughout the group, aggravated turning of eyes, some more pronounced than others. Tony was simply standing to my right, smile growing wider with each second. 

‘Sit’ I hear the command from the other end of the oval table, where Bucky sat, an air of misplaced authority around him. 

‘Do you guys hate any colour that isn’t a shade of black or something? I mean it’s a nice and threatening setting but it gets boring so quickly’ I comment as I take my seat.

‘They thought it’d be appropriate, I said they should paint this part pink’ 

‘Yeah, neon pink would certainly be more interesting than this’ Tony cracked up again, but Bucky had to ruin the moment by clearing his throat. 

‘Frankly, we aren’t sure what to do with you’ he begins, looking around the group for reassurance, all of whom nod their head.

‘Yeah I can see that’

‘Give us a good reason to not kill you right now’ 

‘Well, that’d be boring wouldn’t it?’ 

‘It’d be getting rid of a potential threat.’

‘And what’ll you fight next? Yourself?’ 

‘Hydra’ 

‘And once that’s gone? What’s your purpose then ‘superheroes’? What’ll you do to earn a pay roll? Swoosh down onto the streets and fight petty thieves? Way to get into the police’s good books, fight their crimes. I’m sure NYPD will be incredibly happy to see a drop in jobs for them because lost little Shield puppies don’t know what to do with their lives.’ 

‘Then we retire’ 

I can’t help but laugh. Retire. People like the ones I’m setting my eyes on right now don’t know what retiring is, they can’t just stop doing their job, their job is their life. 

‘Back to you, Fox, you haven’t given us a reason yet’ I watch as everyone leans forward to hear my damn good explanation, except, they won’t like it. At all. 

‘I am the Satan to your God’ 

‘Explain’ Steve demands, me sullying his beloved spiritual leader clearly didn’t go over well, but bear with me, you’ll understand soon. 

‘Well, since grandpa here has a slow brain, I guess I have to. Take God, your stereotypical Christian do-gooder. But he doesn’t have much to do-good, if there is nothing bad to do-good to, right? So there’s Satan, the evil-doer. The sinner, the villain to the hero God. Now change that to Hydra and Shield. There is no shield if there is no Hydra, kapish?’

‘Shields aim is to create world peace, hydra is only one of many organisations that stands in the way. Hydras non-existence will further our progress in achieving our aim.’ Steve now took over the meeting.

‘Hey, hydras main aim is world peace too’ a collective snort was emitted from everyone around the room.

‘Yeah, I can see that’ Steve sat back in his chair, disgust written all over his features as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

‘Think about it mister goody-two-shoes, as long as there is many leaders there is war. Human greed is unrelenting, the grass on the other side is always greener, right?’ Tony nodded wholeheartedly while Steve was much more reluctant, nodding to signify he understands, but doesn’t agree. Bucky was simply sitting opposite to me listening intently, not moving at all except when I said hydra wants world peace. ‘Ok, well, if there is only one leader, there is no greed, yes?’ 

‘Theoretically, because they have everything’ Tony adds.

‘Exactly, someone gets me! Well, then there is no reason to fight anymore, right? The only fighting that might occur is between the common folk, there greed will prevail. Create a communist world and after 3 generations, tadaa, no wars, no fighting, no conflict, world peace’ 

‘No’ 

‘Of course you don’t agree poster child, you represent the American eagle and crap like that. As long as there is freedom, there is war. Do you not understand that, or do you choose to be blissfully unaware, blondie?’

‘She’s not actually wrong, on a basic human level that would work’ 

‘Thank you Tony, someone who isn’t manipulated by Fox news’ The look that Steve sends Tony would make a flower wither in seconds, but the latter held the gaze until Steve couldn’t bring himself to continue it, guilt already killing him internally. ‘Do you see now why it’s best to let me leave?’ 

‘So you are our fox, and we the dogs that chase you’ 

‘That was…’ I lift my finger as if to scold someone, stop mid-air, look up like I’m in deep thought, look back down with a scowl on my face and continue: ‘Actually a genius way of putting it’ I smile at Bucky, who returned a one sided smirk. Still not used to that tilt there I see. Well it did look sort of handsome, in a bad boy sort of way. 

‘Yes, so you are the blood hounds that chase the poor little fox that simply wants to feed its starving family, but you have all the chicken in your coop, all huddled together and deliciously warm’ my tongue darts out to wet my lips, the motion purely for emphasis, not that I actually want raw bloody chicken, that’s disgusting and dangerous, with all the germs and all. Ew. 

‘She’s just a poor little foxy, ain’t she?’ Tony smirks at the table. Well, I have one person on my side here, there’s that I guess. Though I do have a feeling he’s on my side purely to spite Steve. But you know what, I’m ok with that. I can see Tony and myself getting along just fine. He puts a hand on my head, simply to show that I don’t bite, and I pretend to play along, just to piss off Steve even more. ‘Look at her, she’s just a little cub’ He scratches behind my ear and I let a whimper escape me, content with the attention my hair is getting. Oh wait. I was locked in here for a couple of days. Without a shower. I mean, they let me go to the toilet, but always accompanied, and always only toilet – hands – back. My hair was probably on a whole other level of filthy. Fair play to Tony for even touching it. 

‘Tony stop, she’s just playing you’ Steve said still reclined heavily in his seat, a scowl almost molten into the features of his face. 

‘I… I can’t even think…’ I gasp as Tony’s fingers move a little lower behind my ear, and you know what? Let’s have some fun. A moan escapes my lips, rapidly followed by ‘Oh! Oh Tony, yes! Ah, right there! Yes! Please Mister Stark!’ yeah, I did just make ear scratching sexual. And yes, it did make Steve flush an unreasonably adorable shade of red. 

‘Cut it out’ Bucky growls from the other end of the table, and I can’t really tell if he’s pissed at me, or at Tony, but his tone didn’t really leave much space for questions. Tony’s hand slowly slithers back to his side, but I let my head tilt after it, craving for more contact. Ok, I’ll be honest, I love being pet. Especially on the head. I’m just a big puppy in a girls’ body. Seeing my motion Bucky gives me a fatherly scold, his eyes much warmer than before. Maybe he just needed someone to care for, like homeless people need a pet. 

Now that’s an interesting theory, why so many homeless people have pets. Ever heard of it? I guess either way now you will. 

So, people who are in the dumps, figuratively and in some cases literally, tend to have a pet as proof that they can take care of something. It’s human nature to care, so homeless people get themselves a puppy or rabbit or whatever it is that floats their boat, to prove to themselves they can take care of it. Because if you can take care of something, you can take care of yourself, right? Well that’s how they think anyways. True or not, I’ll leave that with you to ponder on. 

‘We will be right back’ Bucky looks at me again, ensuring I heard him before he nods at Steve and Tony to move, which both promptly do. They stand at the other end of the room, and one taps the wall, a hidden door sliding open quietly. After all of them stepped out I heave a heavy sigh. 

Of course there’s a hidden door. How can’t there be one. Stupid Fox, stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see I tried to show just how influenced and biased she is towards hydra, her 'perfect world' is very much hydras ideal: World domination. I hope I got that across well enough. let me know what you think!


	7. Dust flecks

As I attempt to find something to occupy my mind that isn’t thoughts (thoughts are bad, always bad), I start to count the specks of dirt on the wall. 1,2,3,4….  
108,742 dust flecks later I hear the typical swish of a door opening. Only this time it’s the one behind me. 108,743.

‘Are you guys walking in circles or something?’ I don’t even bother to look back, but the silence that prevails and the stillness of the body behind me make me turn around. I’d expect them to know I’d have some sort of remark about this, why are they so quiet now? I turn around. ‘oh’ I gasp, ‘Hi birdy, wait no, you aren’t birdy. Well I guess you are…’ I rest my hand beneath my chin, lost in thought, is he birdy, or is he hawky? But a hawk is a bird so technically he’s a birdy, but then what is that guy with wings? He’s Falcon, and that’s a bird too! Those guys just love to confuse people like you and me, don’t they? Well, maybe just me. Ah crap. I lost count. Now I have to start again. 

‘Hawkeye’ He introduces himself stiffly, his arm out for me to shake. 

‘Oh I see you have better manners than the mental institution behind the secret door’ I take his hand and shake it enthusiastically. He cracks a small smile but it dies swiftly as he realises it.

‘Who are you? Another recruit?’ he takes the seat beside me and places his bow on the table gently, he must love that piece of equipment.

‘Sounds like they try to recruit a lot. Well, unless being held for several days against my wishes, being given one tomato soup, though I must say it wasn’t bad, having to listen to Steve reminisce about old times and Bucky growl occasionally is part of the  
recruitment process, no. I’m not another recruit. I’m the girl that tried to kill the spy, woman, thing… I guess.’ The reaction was immediate, the man jumped to his feet and took a few steps back, his bow ready to go and arrow in hand.

‘You guess?’ 

‘Well yeah, I know I failed, but now they’re behind the secret door trying to decide whether I live or not, fun!’ I smile, what else could I do? They’re back there debating my verdict and I’m here having a nice conversation with Hawky. Birdy. Hawky. Yeah, Hawky is  
the best nickname. Yeah. I wonder how high he can shoot that thing. Maybe high enough to hit a helicarrier? Oh that’d be fun! How far can he sh- 

‘Yeah, you failed.’ 

‘Well, I just said I know that, get with the record Birdy.’ I reprimand myself mentally, ‘Hawky’ I correct. 

‘Hawkeye’ 

‘Shut it Hawky, you’re Hawky till I either die or decide you’re too boring to give you a nickname. Consider it an honour.’ Just as I finish my little lecture the secret door swishes open and a very unhappy Tony Stark steps in, his frown becoming a smile as he sets  
eyes on Hawky, who is now awkwardly letting the bow hang, seeing as I have no intention of attacking him. Yet. 

‘Oh hey birdman, I see you’ve met Foxy here’ He motions as if introducing us to each other, then sits across from me. 

‘Foxy?’ Hawkeye asks.

‘Hawky, nice to meet you’ I give my hand as if letting him shake it again, but just as he goes to grab for it I pull it back and run it through my hair. God I need a shower. I hear Tony snicker while Hawk simply looks at me halfway annoyed halfway amused. Well, he had part of a humour anyways. It was a start. 

‘Foxy, we came to a decision by the way’ Tony turned back to me, smile faltering. Can I relax? Am I let go? Argh, the suspense is killing me! (Possibly literally) 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘Yeah. Dogs need a fox to chase away from the chicken coop, as you so aptly put it. However!’ He raised his finger and wagged it at me. ‘Under the condition that I get a sample of your blood!’ 

‘You’re letting her go?’ Hawky sounds so cute when he can’t believe what he just heard!

‘Well, yeah’ Steve walked in behind Bucky, who stood by the wall with his arms crossed. 

‘Oh is this Christmas? It is isn’t it?’ I chant jumping up and down on the spot, excited beyond belief. Oh I was let go! Yes! Then I started to truly think about this. Oh. ‘Oh… Oooooh…’ my face fell and I stopped hopping. Hydra. I completely forgot about Hydra. Well crack a doodle doo. 

‘I thought you’d be happy?’ I heard Steve smirk, yeah, I heard him smirk, the ass had a smirk so big I didn’t even need to look at him. What a…

‘Oh I am. Well, I guess I am? I’m not sure’

‘You guess a lot, don’t you?’ I hear Hawkeye from beside me, much closer now that the room was getting crowded. 

‘Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess I do. Hah! I did it again. I kind of operate on guessing, I guess?’ 

Ok, brain, relax. 

But they basically sent me to death row, a sample of blood the only proof I lived!

I said relax.

But…!

Relax. 

I play some classical music in my head, in an attempt to drown out my conflicting thoughts, but somehow that nagging little voice still managed to overpower the strong tones of Tchaikovsky.

They want you dead.

No they don’t, shut up.

Why else would they send you out? They want you dead.

No, I said shut up.

They want you dead Fox, everyone wants you dead.

I SAID SHUT UP, I now shout in my own head. By now I realise that I’ve been in my head for quite a while, I just hope they aren’t trying to talk to me. 

Everyone wants you dead Ana.

Don’t call me that. 

Ana.

Stop.

Anastazja.

STOP.

‘I said fucking STOP!’ I shout with all my might in my head, but the collective gasp from around me made me painfully aware that it wasn’t just in my head. ‘I… said that out loud, didn’t I?’ I opened my eyes to look at the group, Steve and a recently arriving Bruce stunned into silence, Bucky nodding his head mouthing a ‘yeah’ and Tony merely had his arms folded, a scientific look on his face, as if to say ‘I’ll research that later’. 

‘Yeah, you did’ I hear Bucky say louder, snapping Steve and Bruce out of their trance. 

‘Uh, sorry about that’ I awkwardly giggle as I raise my hand behind my head, rubbing the back of it, as I look around the group again. Steve and Bucky stood closest to me, probably thinking I was having an episode similar to Bucky’s ones. Bruce and Tony stood across from me, whispering amongst each other but still holding eye contact with me. Hawky simply stood in a corner disinterested, or at least pretending to be. 

‘You ok?’ Bucky asked, his hand hovering over my arm as if debating between comforting me or not, but my flinch as soon as I noticed that move made him decide against it, the arm unceremoniously falling to his side. 

‘Yeah… I better go then, don’t want to be any more of a pain in the ass, I guess’ I giggle again, rubbing the back of my neck some more, it’s 100% leaving a red mark, I’m sure of it. I’m really starting to realize what all that entails. First shield, or the remnants of it anyways, offer me, a bat-shit crazy girl, an improvised asylum and now they send me to the people that created me. I’m well aware of what I am made for, and how Hydra want me to be, unlike the Winter Soldier was. I’m also well aware I am only a fraction of the things they want me to be. Getting rid of me was their ultimate plan. Oh am I aware of that now. So they failed at getting rid of me the convenient way, letting me get KIA and brush it under the rug as another attempted terrorism attack. But that failed. And now they will chase me down. They won’t stop until I’m 10-feet under, as 6 simply won’t cut it. And even then they will dig up my remains to make sure I’m gone for good. And that ape of a blond poster boy is smirking while sending me to certain death. 

They want you dead, the voice in my head repeats for the hundredth time.

Yeah. Yeah, they want me dead. I finally agree. 

I put an enthusiastic smile on my face. I will not give this ape the satisfaction of seeing me breaking down. No, I’m not going to go down without a fight. I let my eyes scan the male crowd, my eyes lingering on my former literal partner in crime, and the brown eyed scientist that I may not have shared many jokes with, but the ones I did were wonderful. Tony, despite what seemed his best efforts, didn’t manage to hide the sad glint from his hypnotising brown, and that little emotion almost made me want to take up shield’s offer. I haven’t had such an emotional bye in years, especially seeing upset in someone whom I barely know. The last time that occurred was when I was holding a brown eyed kid in my arms for the last time. I wave them all goodbye, and so I turn on my heel, and walk away. My stiletto is clicking on the familiarly coloured floor as I walk. I’d like to think that the clicking had an air of finality to it, the final time I’m wearing those ankle crushing shoes. The final time I’m wearing any shoes, realistically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, I was on the other side of the country getting drunk and attending a conference (mainly getting drunk tho!) Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please please please comment on what you like/don't like!


	8. Whiskey

It’s been a week since I walked out of stark tower. Thankfully being with a multinational firm, so to speak, I made some contact along the way that made the escape that bit easier. I acquired a passport relatively easily, seeing as I have no record or even a birth cert on me. So I got the earliest flight to a simple little country on the edge of Europe as quick as I could. Ireland. Its ingenius, I mean, who in their right mind would be like ‘Oh yeah she probably ran to that little country known for its rolling green hills, rain and Guinness’? Exactly. No one. And so here I am, in a little hut in Longford, my own cute and small house by a stream where no one will drive around. One thing I love about this country is that people just don’t give a shit. As long as you’re cool with Guinness, they’re cool with you. Back story? No need, just order another drink, and put it on the tab for the guy next to you too, he’ll love you. Feliks never left my mind though. I abandoned him, frozen, to the clutches of the same group of people that used me any way they pleased after the Winter Soldier left, no longer able to do the deed himself. They filmed us, often. Every time. And there was a few times. I really hope James never gets those tapes, though on the other hand I do want him to see just what he did to me. What are they going to do to Feliks? I shake my head. No, this isn’t something I should think about. Not now.

‘Would you like a refill there lass?’ the old bartender asks me, holding the whiskey bottle up and ready to pour.

‘Yes please’ I smile at him, which he returns with that pleasant and kind smile that only concerned old people can carry. I wonder if that’s just their knowledge or if it’s a genuine thing that their faces just change that way. Hopefully I get old enough to see for myself. Once my glass is refilled he places the bottle back on the rack behind him and turns around, leaning on the bar on his elbows.

‘That’s a lot of drink for a lass like you’ he comments.

‘High tolerance’ I reply, he nods his head humming gently,

‘Ah, have heard that before, never ends well. Good as drink is, it ends in thirst.’

‘Then I am eternally thirsty, as this drink is very good’ I lift my glass somewhat in salute, and he nods his head in reply, the greying hair shaking slightly with the motion.

‘What troubles you then lass? Not often we get lonely women in these places’

‘Too many things’

‘What butter and whiskey won't cure, there is no cure for’

‘Amen’ I lift my already empty glass for another refill, which the bartender does very willingly. The alcohol will never get me drunk, somewhat tipsy maybe, but not drunk. And that’s what I want to be, I want to get absolutely shit faced, forget about the past, forget about the future, and just live now. And probably vomit. Worth. I turn back to the bar tender, who now turned around to polish some wine glasses, who knows what for considering the only thing drunk here is whiskey and stout, but anyways. ‘What do you think about the occurrences in America?’ I ask swirling the golden liquid in the glass. I ordered it on rocks, but the rocks melted a couple hours ago. Ah well.

‘Don’t really know, haven’t heard much of i’, and so long as it ain’t in this pub I really dun give a rats arse’

‘poor rat’ I mumble under my breath.

‘Aye, i’s a poor rat a’right, if it dares step into my pub’ I grin up at the man, though on the latter end of life he seems to have the ears of a fox. Heh.

After several more drinks, and some more heart to heart with the incredibly enigmatic bartender, I headed home somewhat lightheaded. My vision was far from blurry, but there was a little bit of delay when I turned my head, as if I was in a video game with slow loading graphics. Or where the graphics are too high. What did people call it again? Ah yes, ‘lag’. And before you ask, yes, I got myself a computer, and yes, I downloaded some games on it. Why not? I always liked games. They’re fun, right?

I stumbled through my front door, unsturdy as it was, I took my time to slip the key into the hole, after several attempts. Eh, it was worth it, right? That’s probably highly debatable. Only when I saw the sink in the little wooden kitchen did I realise I’d had no water. Maybe I didn’t even need to drink water, super human and all that, but is it really worth the risk? The risk of a heavy hangover in the morning? I’m not particularly a morning person anyways, what’s to say I’m not more irritable when hung over? So I turned on the tap, somewhat fiddling with it as my hands seemed to slip from the handle. I hunched over the steady stream of cold water and cupped my hand, catching some of the water, while lowering my mouth to it and taking my first sip.

This is the water that came from the tank upstairs. I can taste it. It’s filthy. _Isn’t that the one you fished the two dead pigeons from?_ I hear my own voice chime in my head.

Probably, I reply.

_You still taste the rotten aftertaste, don’t you?_

Yeah, that’s possibly the weird taste of the water, it tastes a lot like a mixture of iron and some other metal.

 _Not a metal_ , my internal voice reprimands, _It’s the taste of wet, rotten flesh._

And thus I feel a heavy weight on my stomach, my body automatically shifting over to the very near by toilet. Though I feel the need to get rid of the proverbial peacock, (an old polish saying) I doesn’t seem to like freedom.

There’s that word again, ‘freedom’, something I seem to return to so often. Something, someone seems to stay on my mind the entire time. Freedom. Freedom my ass. No one is free until they’re dead, right? Death is the ultimate freedom. I can’t even _achieve_ that sense of loose living. Despite my master plan of coming to this tiny island I still look over my shoulder. Is it any good? Will I even see them coming? I highly doubt it. Somehow, somewhere within me I’m well aware that I’ll never get that feeling that James seems to have, that I had what seems like some years ago. But it was nearly a century ago. I’m nearly a century old. How sick is that?

My bed seems too fluffy, too nice to hold someone like me. So I grab the duvet and the used pillow and throw them on the ground. How could I ever imagine I could live in any other conditions? Squished into a small house with basically no visitors, for their own safety. I’m not sure why I imagined myself living until the age of that bar tender, or that I could ever return to a family, friends. Could I even have a family? Wouldn’t they be at constant risk? Probably.

Sleep comes difficult, whether due to the intoxication of my body or the thoughts plaguing me, I don’t know.  However someone haunts me, someone who was probably closer to me than anyone I ever knew.

It was a dark room. I remember opening my eyes and panic taking me, for the act of opening my lids did nothing to rid my eyes of the overwhelming blackness. Was I blinded? Had I lost my vision? Had they finally found a way to incapacitate me for good?

I’m doomed.

That’s the first thought that springs into my head. I’m going to die. This is it. Say goodbye to your future. They say life flashes before your eyes just as you are about to pass into the nether. But what if you have no life to do so? What if you can’t see it anyways? Not just my eyes were eaten by the darkness, my memories had been too. Something smelled awfully familiar, but the more I tried to pin point it the more my head began to sing this terrible high pitched note. I focussed on my hearing, presumably the only sense that didn’t cause my head to act up. However I quickly realised that though I could hear, I had no idea how far or close the noise was. I suppose I had some idea of how blind people feel. Maybe. Temporarily.

A loud bang brought me from my thoughts. How loud was it really? How far away? I don’t know.

‘Fox’ , the voice sounded right by my ear, the breath of the owner brushing the cup of my ear, but it sounded so far away simultaneously. A cold shudder ran down my spine, the sensation oddly calming. So I still had a sense of feeling at least. This form of torture was almost _beneath_ hydra.

‘Fox’ The close, yet far voice repeated, and again I felt that sickening breath swirl around my ear. Were they waiting for a response?

‘Hmm?’ I hum gently, the sound devastatingly loud to my ears.

‘So you’re finally awake’ The voice speaks, a twisted sort of amusement running through the syllables, as if that person was waiting for me to wake up before they continued.

‘Da’ I reply, remembering to only speak in Russian, but was this really them? Was this really Hydra? Doubt cursed through me, laying deep in the pit of my stomach.

‘Fields’ The voice sounded.

  _No._ My internal voice rang

‘Starboard’

 _No_.

‘Winter’

_Please no._

‘One’

_No. no._

‘Knife’

_This can’t be happening._

‘Nine’

I hear my own voice mumbling something, my eyes still seeing nothing, my ears picking up on the slightest rustle, the gentle swish of the voices jacket, or was it his pants?

‘Winter’

My mind is turning blank, the voice fading into nothingness, only one thought repeating itself in my brain. ‘Ready for mission.’

‘Two’

Feliks. I can’t let this work. I can’t. I attempt to rip my hands away, but they feel so heavy. So bloody heavy. Feliks. These brown eyes burn into my head, never will I forget you Feliks. I promised you, I don’t go back on promises. I _promised._ I swore I’d keep you safe. Smart, limping little Feliks. God, I need your brains Feliks.

‘Brown’

The colour fades. It runs away in front of my eyes, decomposing into its building blocks, red, blue, yellow. And then they fade into one, black. I want to imagine my thrusting never stopped, my frantic waving, my attempts to break free from the biting restraints. But somewhere in the back of my head I attempt to throw the thought that I stopped back, make it return to the same corner that it came from. The small little corner I swore I’d never touch. The same corner I hide all my darkness, all my sins.

‘Three’

Something inside me snaps. Something deep, hidden, dark. I try to fight it, I know I do. Or do I? My head snaps up, finally something flows into my eyes. A yellow light. Or was it called red? Maybe it was blue. A figure is crouched over me. Blond? Was that the name of the hair colour?

 _That’s not your mission,_ I hear the voice in my head.

It’s not, I agree.

My head hangs as I feel, what are they, emotions? Yes, they must be. I feel those things flood through me one by one. Was that one sadness? I can’t tell anymore. Maybe it was anger. It’s as if they flicker to life and then die, there was some animal that does that. It comes to life and dies shortly after. Or does it really die?

 _That’s not your mission_ , I hear the voice repeat internally. Since when do I have an internal voice? 

‘Soldier?’ The man hovering over my face asks. I open my eyes again, staring into the green of his. How come I know this colour as green? Something deep within me was wired to recognize this specific colour. I know it, I can tell, somehow. But how?

‘Ready for my mission’ I say automatically.

‘Good’ He exclaims and releases my restraints. I thought I had gone to cryostasis? Why was I sitting now? Must have been a rapid wakening. Or was this normal? This was the first time I had woken after all.

‘Fox?’ I hear in my skull.

_What?_

‘Fox? Are you in there?’

_Well yes, this is my head, dipshit._

‘Fox open the door’ this time the voice is accompanied by knocking, heavy thuds bouncing through the wooden door. Wooden? But the only doors I can see are heavy metal?

I snap forward with a heavy gasp as I feel a hand on my side. Hand, hah, it’s more like a paw. A cold, hard paw.

 


End file.
